


Of all the night clubs in this town, they had to go into that one.

by GallagherWitt



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Accidentally High, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dom/sub, Gay, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Kinky Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Menage, Multi, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens), Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallagherWitt/pseuds/GallagherWitt
Summary: After a day at Disneyland, Aziraphale does a few too many edibles, and now Crowley needs a drink. He pulls into the first night club that catches his eye... and finds himself face to face with his pre-Eden (and pre-Aziraphale) lover, Lucifer Morningstar. Sexy shenanigans ensue.





	Of all the night clubs in this town, they had to go into that one.

UPDATE: 11/10/19 - This fic is now available as an audiobook on YouTube, narrated by Michael Ferraiuolo!

Chapter 1: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLgYacakpTA>

Chapter 2: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78AvjnuqM5M>

Chapter 3 & 4: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mnYreQDRgTs>

# Chapter 1

“Exactly how many of the gummi bears did you eat?” Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale, who was sitting in the rental car’s passenger seat, grinning like an idiot. Grinning like more of an idiot than usual, that is. And, all right, they _had_ just spent the whole day at Disneyland, and he was still wearing his Mickey Mouse ears and his _My 1st Visit to Disneyland_ button on his white jacket, so the extra grinning like an idiot thing wasn’t entirely unexpected, but Crowley couldn’t help his suspicion.

The grin faltered for a second, and Aziraphale looked almost sheepish. “Was… Was I supposed to save some for you? I’m terribly sorry. I thought you had some and—”

“_You ate the whole bag?_” Crowley’s jaw fell open. He also nearly collided with another car because the I-5 was backed up to hell and back. It was probably just as well the rental agency had given him this stupid Prius. What he wouldn’t have given to be screaming through the streets of London in his beloved Bentley, but no, today he was trapped in Purgatory on Earth—a Los Angeles traffic jam in a Prius with an angel who was apparently high as balls.

Normally, Aziraphale would gasp demurely and grab onto something when Crowley came that close to swapping paint with another vehicle. This time, he started giggling. Really giggling. The kind of giggling he reserved for… Well, things _besides_ nearly colliding with another car at high speeds.

Speaking of high…

“You have _got_ to be shitting me.” Crowley shook his head and glared at the endless line of cars in front of him. “Angel, you’re only supposed to eat one at a time. Maybe two.”

“One or two?” Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “You can’t just give me a bag of delicious gummies and expect me to stop at one or two.”

Crowley groaned, gripping the wheel tighter.

“Why so limited, anyway?” Aziraphale asked with even more cheerfulness than usual. “Are they expensive? Some kind of rare flavoring? Are they—oh! Did you see that lady?” He gestured—more like flailed—at another car. “Her hair is blue! Do you think I would look good with blue hair? Oh!” His head snapped toward Crowley so fast, the Mickey Mouse ears nearly fell off. With wide eyes and lopsided mouse ears, Aziraphale said, “_You_ should try blue!”

Crowley was torn. On one hand, he believed he’d been teleported back to hell, which had deteriorated since his last visit and become LA gridlock in a rental Prius. On the other… Well, it turned out that Aziraphale was hilariously adorable when he was high.

Chuckling, Crowley reached across and patted Aziraphale’s thigh. “Yes, angel. When we get back to London, we can—”

“But why wait?” Oh hell, he was _bouncing_ now. Literally. “This is Los Angeles. I’m sure we could find someone who would color it for you. I’m thinking electric blue. Or no! Cobalt! Jewel tones are more…you.” He took out his phone. “I can find someone. Give me a moment.”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Crowley plucked the phone out of Aziraphale’s hand and tucked it into the compartment inside the driver’s side door. At least this car was good for something. “Maybe we should let you sober up a little.”

“Sober up?” Aziraphale guffawed. “I haven’t had a single drink all day.”

“No, but you did have an entire pack of THC-infused gummi bears.”

“THC?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and pushed out a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t you remember? I explained it before I gave you the bag. THC. Marijuana.”

“Mari—” Aziraphale’s teeth snapped together audibly. “Am I—Crowley, am I high?”

Crowley barked a laugh. “Angel. Darling. You are absolutely high.”

Silence. Tense, loaded silence, emphasized by the utter lack of an engine purr from this contraption that passed for a car. Crowley stole a cautious glance at Aziraphale. As expected, the angel’s eyes were huge and his lips were parted.

Oh, balls. Now he was going to lose his shit. And the middle of a purgatorial traffic jam was not the place either of them needed to be while a celestial being had his first ever weed freak out.

Crowley slowed down a little and put on his blinker for a lane change. As he wedged the Prius between a Tesla and some tiny-penised man’s compensation-mobile, he said, “Just breathe, angel. It’s—”

Aziraphale burst out laughing.

Crowley actually jumped, and he stole another glance at the passenger side before he continued forcing his way in front of that stupid Tesla. Aziraphale was _howling_ with laughter. Holding his belly and everything. The mouse ears had slid further and were now precariously hanging off one side of his head, and tears were already streaming down his face as he laughed.

Well, that was better than a freak-out. Still, Crowley figured he shouldn’t take chances. They’d stop for a little while, and Crowley could get a drink while his angel giggled his way through a dozen gummi bears’ worth of weed.

Giggled, or sang. Because now Aziraphale was singing an off-key rendition of _Angels We Have Heard On High_ and collapsing into fresh laughter every time he said “high.”

It occurred to Crowley he _could_ just miracle the drug out of Aziraphale’s system, but Home Office was already on his case for overdoing it on miracles recently. In fact, just last month they’d both heard from his Home Office _and_ Aziraphale’s after the angel miracled Crowley out of some exceptionally nasty predicament bondage because a knot had unexpectedly unraveled and nearly dropped Crowley taint-first onto a bedpost. Beelzebub was still mad about having to hear Crowley tell exactly why Aziraphale had tied him that way in the first place, and Gabriel and Michael had been treated to Aziraphale excitedly explaining—in graphic detail—how the scenario _would_ have played out if the knot had held like it was supposed to.

So…as long as Aziraphale wasn’t actually losing his shit, Crowley would let the weed run its course.

He did need a drink, though.

Fortunately, there was an exit coming up, and it looking like there were some hotels and clubs along the street. All he had to do was find one that didn’t require a parking miracle, and he could enjoy something cold and alcoholic while Aziraphale marveled at the carpet patterns or something.

Beside him, the angel was still giggling but manage to squeak out, “Where are we going? Are we… Are we back already?”

“Not yet.” Crowley suppressed a smile as he patted Aziraphale’s knee. “I could just go for a drink, is all.”

“Ooh, I could go for a drink too.” Aziraphale nodded, and the mouse ears tumbled off and disappeared down by the floorboards. “Perhaps something sweet. Oh, or salty. Do find a place that serves food.”

Crowley chuckled to himself. Great. His stoned angel had the munchies.

A sign for valet parking caught his eye, and Crowley aimed the Prius in its direction. Valet parking and alcohol. Perfect.

Crowley handed off the Prius’s remote—this car didn’t even have a proper key—to the valet, and then helped Aziraphale out of the passenger seat. Aziraphale, wrapped an arm around Crowley’s waist and leaned hard on him, weaving a little as they walked toward the door.

“They serve food, right?” Aziraphale asked. “I could eat an entire cake. Oh! I hope they have cake.”

“Of course, dear.” Crowley walked a little slower than usual so Aziraphale could stay upright. They weren’t usually so blatantly physical in public either, but he could weather a few dirty looks in the name of not letting Aziraphale wander into traffic. That would be just his luck—he’d turn his back for a second, Aziraphale would see a balloon, and the next thing they both knew, the angel was discorporated and Crowley was stuck in this hot, sticky town by himself. Just the thought made him hold his angel a little tighter.

At the door, Aziraphale paused, scrutinizing the letters etched into the frosted glass. “Lux? Is that where we are?”

“Yes, angel.” Crowley herded him inside. “That’s what the club is called.”

And why did that name seem familiar? Maybe it was one of the places Aziraphale had rattled off while they’d been planning their visit to the Southern California.

“Lux, Lux, Lux,” Aziraphale singsonged as they wandered into the mostly empty lounge. “They should have a drink called Lux-ury. Or something De-Luxe. Oh! Or Flux Capacitor. With some kind of time travel theme. Can drinks have themes? How would you do a time travel-themed drink. Maybe you could…”

He continued speculating about time travel drinks and other names that played on the club’s name, but Crowley didn’t catch it. Something in the air…wasn’t right. Or rather, it was familiar, and it didn’t belong here. In this club? In this city? In this world? A chill ran down Crowley’s spine, and he shivered.

Aziraphale stopped mid-sentence and turned to him. “Are you cold, darling? It’s quite chilly in here, isn’t it?” He started to take off his jacket, 1st Disneyland Visit button and all. “Here. Wear this. You’ll—”

“Angel, angel.” Crowley shook his head and tugged Aziraphale’s jacket back into place. “I’m fine. I’m not cold.”

“Are you sure? We could find someplace that serves drinks outside. It’s much warmer out there. We can—”

“I’m fine, love.” Crowley steered Aziraphale toward the bar. “Let’s just sit down and get some drinks.”

“And food.” Aziraphale clumsily took a seat in a barstool and picked up a menu.

Crowley sat beside him and looked around for a bartender. It was early yet, so there was almost no one in the club and not many people working here either.

Finally, a woman strode out of the back, and Crowley raised a hand to flag her down.

But then he froze.

So did the woman.

For long seconds, they stared at each other.

Finally, Crowley managed to choke out, “M-Mazikeen?”

She cocked her head as she came closer. “Crawley?”

He scowled. “Well, yes, but it’s Crowley now.”

“Anthony J. Crowley,” Aziraphale and his weed cheerfully supplied.

Mazikeen eyed him, then smirked at Crowley. “So you have a first name and a boyfriend. How adorable.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at her. “And you’re working in a bar. How cute.”

“Well.” She smiled sweetly, raising the hairs on his neck. “Someone has to hang around and give the boss a hand once in a while.”

He gulped. “The boss?”

“Mm-hmm.” She inclined her head. “The boss.”

Crowley had the space of a heartbeat to think—but not say—_oh fuck_, before a hand materialized on his shoulder.

“So it’s Anthony J. Crowley now, yes?” That smooth voice made Crowley’s mouth go dry. “Long time, no see.”

Crowley stood, turned around, and…oh fuck. “Lucifer. How the… What the…”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Lucifer goddamned Morningstar smiled broadly, his dark eyes sparkling with Crowley could only guess what. “After a certain angel and demon thwarted my plans for Armageddon, I decided to take a vacation.” He gestured around, his expression full of self-satisfaction. “Turned out I like it here.”

Crowley had no idea what to say. He wasn’t entirely sure he was still capable of speaking.

“Crowley, darling,” Aziraphale said, apparently oblivious to what was going on. “Don’t you think a drink called Lux be a Lady would be wonderful?” He giggled. “I would drink that.”

Eyes still locked on Lucifer’s, Crowley shakily snapped his fingers.

Beside him, Aziraphale stiffened. He turned his head to one side. Then the other, and he sat up slowly. “When did we get here? Crowley, why do I—”

Crowley _felt_ the instant Aziraphale saw Lucifer. The hitch of his breath may as well have been a tremor beneath their feet.

The barstool scraped on the floor, and a second later, Aziraphale—completely sober now—stood beside Crowley.

Lucifer’s eyes shifted toward the angel. “Aziraphale. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Aziraphale huffed, looking Lucifer up and down with blatant disgust. “I’d heard there were some nefarious people in this town, but I didn’t think they meant the Devil himself.”

Crowley barely restrained the urge to facepalm. He should’ve just left the angel high. And maybe gotten out of here.

Lucifer didn’t seem insulted by the comment. He didn’t seem all that surprised either. “Oh, Aziraphale.” Still grinning, he touched a hand to his heart. “There’s hardly anything nefarious about running a bar in Los Angeles, is there? I’m even working with the police now.”

“With the police?” Crowley sputtered. “Doing what? Committing murders so they have something to do?”

That soured the Devil’s face, and Lucifer shifted his glare back to Crowley. “You know me better than that.”

Okay, he had a point. “Fine. What do you do for the police, then?”

“I’m a consultant. I help the detectives solve cases.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “I help people. You know, like we did back before the Flood?”

Aziraphale’s head snapped toward Crowley. Crowley met his gaze and shrugged. The angel tsked and almost masked a smile. He’d never asked outright where Crowley had gone or what he’d done before the rain had started coming down, but he had to have known by now that sitting back and watching innocent people—especially kids—die wasn’t Crowley’s style.

Crowley shifted his attention back to Lucifer. “All right. You’re on vacation, and you’re helping the police. Well done.” He put a hand on Aziraphale’s back. “I think we’ll go someplace where we don’t know quite so many of the—”

“No, no.” Lucifer grinned. “Please. Stay. Have a drink on the house.” He put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder again. “I insist.”

Crowley swallowed.

Beside him, Aziraphale bristled. “We’ll do no such thing.” He slid his hand around Crowley’s elbow. “Let’s go. I see no reason to stay in…” He wrinkled his nose. “_This_ place.”

“Aziraphale.” Lucifer turned to the angel. “It’s just a club. One of many in like it in Los Angeles. We—”

“Good. Then we can find another one.” Glaring at Lucifer, Aziraphale declared, “Crowley, I want to leave. Now.”

“Is that _really_ what you want?” Lucifer’s eyes gleamed as he looked right into Aziraphale’s. “Tell me, Aziraphale…”

“Lucifer,” Crowley warned, trying to squeeze himself into the space between the devil and the angel. “Lucifer, don’t.”

Lucifer ignored him. “Tell me—what do you desire?”

Crowley’s heart dropped. No one but God Herself was immune to Lucifer’s hypnotic eyes and that one single question, and he suddenly wished he’d left Aziraphale stoned so he’d say something like “an entire wedding cake” or “every doughnut Krispy Kreme has ever baked.” It was going to get incredibly awkward once he came out and said he wanted to defeat Lucifer and send him back to Hell where he belonged.

“I want…” Aziraphale sounded dazed.

“You don’t have to answer him.” Crowley snapped his fingers in front of Aziraphale’s face. “Come on. Look at me. Not at him.”

A strong hand tugged at Crowley’s elbow, and Mazikeen growled in his ear, “Get out of the way, Crawley.”

He tried to pull away, but she yanked him off balance, and he stumbled back, leaving Lucifer and Aziraphale nearly nose to nose, their eyes locked and the question hanging in the air.

“That’s it,” Lucifer coaxed. “Tell me what you desire, Aziraphale.”

Crowley cringed. Even a miracle preventing Aziraphale from speaking wouldn’t work. Not when Lucifer was more powerful than both of them combined.

Still dazed, sounding even higher than he had in the car, Aziraphale said, “Crowley.”

Crowley turned to him. “What?”

Lucifer and Aziraphale both ignored him.

“That’s what you desire?” Lucifer asked. “Crowley?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft and flat. “Crowley.”

Good thing Crowley was no longer behind the wheel, or he’d have crashed that piece-of-shit Prius.

Lucifer’s eyes flicked toward Crowley, and the bewilderment in his expression would’ve made Crowley laugh out loud if he hadn’t been so stunned himself.

The moment of broken eye contact was all it took to break the trance, and Aziraphale shook himself. Then he turned to Crowley. “What? Are we leaving?”

“Uh…”

“How intriguing,” Lucifer mused, raking his eyes over Crowley. “I never thought I’d have so much in common with an angel.”

Crowley stared at both of them. “What the fuck is happening?”

“I’d like to know the same thing.” Aziraphale squared his shoulders and glared pointedly at Lucifer. “What _is_ happening?”

“Uh. Well.” Crowley cleared his throat as he struggled to figure out where to begin. Especially since he wasn’t so sure he was following.

The Devil beat him to it anyway. “What’s happening, Aziraphale…” He stepped a little closer to Crowley. “Is that apparently you and I desire the same thing.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Aziraphale asked, voice full of frustration and indignation. “Crowley, what is he talking about?”

Crowley…couldn’t speak.

It was no surprise to him that Aziraphale wanted him—they’d been sharing a flat in London long enough that even both their Home Offices had grudgingly had to come to terms with them wanting each other. If any doubt had still remained, the _“hey let’s fuck with both our sides by having the biggest, gayest wedding ceremony London has ever seen”_ last spring had surely driven the point home.

But that little mind trick of Lucifer’s? That reached in and grabbed your single deepest desire. The one thing that you wanted above all else.

For Aziraphale to simply answer that question with Crowley’s name…

“Crowley?” Aziraphale cocked his head. “Are you still with me?”

_Until the end of time, angel._

Crowley shook himself. “I… Of course, of course. I, um…” He turned to Lucifer, ready to tell him they were getting the heaven out of here, but…

_“Apparently you and I desire the same thing.”_

As if he could read Crowley’s mind, Lucifer grinned again. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Aziraphale asked. “What are you two going on about?”

Crowley cleared his throat. His eyes flicked back and forth from his boss to his husband. He wasn’t used to being speechless.

Abruptly, Lucifer’s expression and tone softened, and he looked at Aziraphale. “The two of you are on vacation. _I’m_ on vacation. I don’t think any of us wants to tangle up in politics while we’re on vacation, do we?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, watching Lucifer with obvious suspicion. “No. No, I suppose no one wants that on holiday.”

“Exactly.” Lucifer gestured toward a staircase leading up from the lounge. “So instead of the three of us locking horns, why don’t we go to my private penthouse for a drink?”

Aziraphale tensed. “Why?”

Lucifer sighed with exasperation. “Because my club is about to get busy, and I would just as soon not have my employees and clientele making noise and getting crowded while I try to seduce the two of you.”

Aziraphale blinked. So did Crowley.

Lucifer gestured again at the staircase. “Shall we?”

As an angel and a demon, Aziraphale and Crowley were perfectly capable of saying no to the Devil. Even humans were—Lucifer never trampled on free will. He may have been a master of temptation, one even more skilled than Crowley, but everything he did was consensual.

But surprisingly, Crowley didn’t _want_ to say no this time.

And to his shock, Aziraphale didn’t want to either.

# Chapter 2

The lift ride up to Lucifer’s penthouse was long and silent. Crowley was barely breathing. He got the distinct impression Aziraphale and Lucifer were holding their breath as well.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Aziraphale finally said as the lift doors opened. “Taking a lift _up_ to the Devil’s house.”

Crowley expected a glare from Lucifer, but Lucifer just laughed. “Well, now you understand why I went for a high-rise.” He stepped out, motioning for them to follow. “It was high time I moved up in the world.”

Aziraphale scowled, and he had that look like he was going to say something snide. Crowley elbowed him as they stepped out of the lift. Aziraphale met his gaze, and Crowley shook his head while mouthing “_let it go_.” The scowl deepened, but Aziraphale did indeed let it go.

While Lucifer poured them each drinks from a crystal decanter, Aziraphale wandered over to the grand piano in the middle of the room. He ran his finger along the sleek black edge of the cover, and glanced at Lucifer. “You play?”

“I do.” Lucifer handed him a drink. “Quite often, in fact. Do you?”

“If you two start trying to out-piano each other,” Crowley warned, “I’m out of here.”

“You’d better not leave me here alone with him,” Aziraphale said tersely.

“Of course not,” Lucifer said with his customary grin. “This will be more fun with all three of us.”

Aziraphale’s expression registered a little uneasiness, a little suspicion, and…definitely some interest.

Lucifer gestured for them to follow him farther into the penthouse. In front of floor-to-ceiling windows, a few pieces of black leather furniture were arranged in a small living area.

Lucifer eased himself onto the sofa and crossed his legs. “I think perhaps we got off on the wrong foot this evening.”

“The Devil and an angel, getting off on the wrong foot?” Aziraphale scowled as he took a nearby armchair. “Say it isn’t so.”

There weren’t any other seats available, so Crowley sat beside Lucifer on the couch. He still wasn’t sure about all of this. There’d been some subtle—and not-so-subtle—flirtation in the lounge, but now that they were up here in the penthouse, some ice had begun to form again between Lucifer and Aziraphale. They were natural enemies, but Crowley had been varying degrees of friendly with both of them over the centuries, so he suspected that meant it was up to him to break the ice.

He went with the first thing that came to mind: “You know it’s not fair you’ve got this ‘_what’s your desire_’ power and no one else does.” Crowley gestured with his drink at Lucifer. “How come nobody gets to pry into _your_ head and find out what _your_ desire is?”

Lucifer turned an intense look on him, and Crowley’s teeth snapped shut. He suddenly remembered the conversation downstairs. What Aziraphale had said. What Lucifer had said. Why the three of them had come up here in the first place. Oh fuck.

“Well, if you want to know…” Lucifer slung an arm across the back of the sofa, nearly brushing the back of Crowley’s neck in the process. “Why don’t you just ask?”

Crowley swallowed. He turned to Aziraphale. Whatever had been in the angel’s expression a moment ago, interest was definitely in the lead now. He glanced back and forth between Crowley and Lucifer, then shrugged as if to say _“Well? Ask him.”_

Crowley faced Lucifer again. He pointed at his own sunglasses. “Do I have to take these off?”

Lucifer chuckled and sipped his drink. “I’m the Devil, Crowley. I don’t give orders.”

“Right. Right.” Crowley nodded sharply. “You only tempt.”

“Precisely.”

“Leave them on,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley gulped. All right. Sunglasses were staying on. Through the tinted lenses, he looked into Lucifer’s intense, dark eyes. “Tell us—what do _you_ desire?”

“I believe I answered that downstairs.” Lucifer stared into Crowley’s eyes as if he could see right through the near-black lenses. “The same thing your angel husband desires.” He slid a bold hand up Crowley’s thigh, making him gasp. “You.”

Crowley couldn’t breathe. Memories flashed through his mind. Old memories from long before the Garden of Eden. From a time he’d never in a million years return to—he’d never again go where Aziraphale wasn’t—but a time he sometimes drifted back to in his mind when he was feeling nostalgic.

“Well.” Aziraphale sounded…smug? Knowing? Crowley turned toward him, and the angel looked right in his eyes as he said with a grin, “I suppose that answers that, doesn’t it?”

Lucifer turned to Aziraphale as well, and he was _definitely_ smug. “I suppose it does.”

Crowley…

Crowley was confused.

Lucifer still wanted him all these millennia later?

And Aziraphale was… What? Amused by it? Turned on by it?

Crowley squinted at him. That bastard, he _was_ turned on by it. His eyes gave it away, and so did that ridge under the front of those pressed white trousers.

_Fuck me, but he’s into this? He’s hot for the Devil being hot for me? I _did_ miracle _all_ the weed out of his system, didn’t I?_

Aziraphale wasn’t high, that much Crowley was sure of. Those blue eyes were clear and sharp, and each time they flicked from Crowley to Lucifer and back again, Crowley’s heart thumped harder.

Without speaking, without moving, Aziraphale watched them over the rim of his glass, his expression placid, but something in his eyes… Oh, he was thinking. There were gears turning. Crowley could _feel_ it. They were the same gears that turned when the two of them were in the bedroom and the angel decided to get creative. That look in his eyes led to everything from elaborate bondage to just wickedly making Crowley beg for every kiss and touch for hours on end.

On the sofa beside Lucifer, Crowley tried not to visibly shiver.

Finally, the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth rose, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Well, Crowley. We _are_ Lucifer’s guests.” He brought the glass almost to his lips. “Perhaps you should give the man what he wants.”

Lucifer and Crowley both stared at Aziraphale. It must have looked like a Renaissance painting in the penthouse just then—two fallen angels, stunned and staring at the white-clad angel on his throne. All right, so maybe Renaissance paintings didn’t involve black leather armchairs, stylish modern penthouses, and My 1st Disneyland Visit buttons, but Crowley had it on good authority that a few _did_ depict scenes that segued into things that would make modern churchgoers faint.

From the look in Aziraphale’s eyes and the pounding of Crowley’s heart, this moment was definitely going to segue into one of those scenes that usually didn’t end up on a cathedral wall.

And then Aziraphale’s eyebrow flicked up the way it always did when he’d told Crowley to do something and was still waiting to be obeyed.

Crowley put his glass on an end table before he dropped it. Then, heart thumping, he turned to Lucifer. Lucifer had just leaned forward to put down his own glass, and as he sat back, he twisted toward Crowley.

Oh, fuck. Lucifer had always been sexy. Long before time began, back when they’d still been angels, he’d had the same dark, entrancing eyes and angular features, and as a human, he was just…striking. Near-black hair. A dark shadow of stubble along his sharp jaw. In over six millennia, Crowley had rarely noticed anyone other than Aziraphale, but Lucifer had been his first, and even after all this time, even after Crowley had married his angel, the Devil could still make him hot with a look.

And Aziraphale wouldn’t be angry. Aziraphale was encouraging them.

_“Maybe you should give the man what he wants.”_

Crowley did shiver this time, because he wanted Lucifer too, and Aziraphale wasn’t just onboard—those words had been a command. What would sound like a softly spoken suggestion to anyone else, they both knew was an order.

So Crowley obeyed.

And for the first time since before the Garden of Eden, he pressed his lips to Lucifer’s.

With fingers cool from holding his drink, Lucifer slid his hand up into Crowley’s hair, brushing Crowley’s sunglasses in the process. A moment later, Crowley tilted his head, and the sunglasses bumped something again.

“These damn things,” Lucifer muttered, and he pulled back and carefully removed Crowley’s sunglasses. Crowley squinted for a second as his eyes adjusted, but when they did, Lucifer was smiling at him. “I always liked your eyes anyway.”

Then he cradled the back of Crowley’s head and pulled him into another deep, hungry kiss.

The clink of ice against glass underscored Aziraphale’s presence. Not that Crowley needed any reminder that his angel was there. He could feel his husband. Could feel him watching. Could feel him holding his breath. Aziraphale’s heart must have been going wild just then, and that made Crowley’s go wild, and he gripped Lucifer’s neck tighter and kissed him harder, both because he wanted to and to make Aziraphale even hotter.

At some point, they’d shifted. Lucifer was reclining back on the couch now. Crowley was straddling him, looming over him. They were both out of breath, staring at each other with wide eyes as they panted.

“Well,” Aziraphale said with a grin in his voice, “If I’d known the two of you would be so enthusiastic, I’d have summoned the Devil ages ago.”

Crowley’s head snapped toward Aziraphale. “Are you fucking—oh, fuck…” He moaned as Lucifer grabbed him and started kissing the side of his throat. “Fuck…”

Aziraphale’s grin broadened. “I think I’d enjoy watching that.”

Both fallen angels turned to him this time.

“What?” He watched them innocently as he brought his glass up for another sip. “Are you saying you don’t want to?”

Crowley and Lucifer glanced at each other, then looked back at Aziraphale and shook their heads.

“No, no,” Lucifer said. “Certainly not.”

“Not saying no at all,” Crowley said.

“Never.”

“Not a chance.”

Aziraphale’s eyes gleamed with need and approval. “Well. Go on then.”

The Devil and the demon looked at each other again, and Crowley could see his own bewilderment in Lucifer’s eyes. Not to mention his own arousal and hunger. Fuck again? After all this time? And with Aziraphale watching and egging them on?

Lucifer started unbuttoning his shirt.

Crowley unbuckled his belt.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “But not on the couch.” With the hand holding his glass, he pointed across the room. “Over the piano.”

Lucifer’s hands froze, and he blinked. “Over the…”

A wicked grin spread across Aziraphale’s lips, and he looked right into the Devil’s eyes as he purred, “Every time you sit down to play after tonight, I want you to remember my husband fucking you.”

Crowley barely kept himself from swooning. Lucifer gulped.

Aziraphale rose. Glass in hand, he strolled across the penthouse to the piano. There, he pulled the bench out with his foot, perched on it—straight and tall as always—and crossed his legs at the knees. Then he sipped his drink. “Crowley, darling. I’m waiting.”

Well, fuck, there were no words that could make Crowley move faster. He got up, paused to peel off his shirt, and glared at Lucifer. “You coming or not?”

“I…” Lucifer blinked a few times before he shook himself and rose. “Right. Of course.” Then his shirt was gone too, and Crowley couldn’t help raking his eyes up and down that familiar body. Lucifer’s human form was nearly as flawless as his angelic form had been, and Crowley’s human form wanted a piece of it right now.

“You heard the man.” Crowley gestured across the room. “Over the piano.”

“Right. Over the piano.”

They crossed the floor to the grand piano and the smug angel watching them from its bench. In a matter of seconds, they’d both stripped out of their remaining clothes. Neither gave a damn where anything landed. Not this time. When the last brief fluttered to the floor, Crowley and Lucifer were naked, black clothes strewn at their feet like charred debris, and the only sound was the clink of ice as Aziraphale took another delicate sip.

Lucifer gave Crowley a wry look, then turned toward the piano.

Crowley shoved him down onto the cover, which drew a delicious grunt out of Lucifer and a pleased grin out of Aziraphale. With his knee, Crowley forced Lucifer’s legs apart, and a shiver ran up Lucifer’s arching spine.

Crowley gazed at Aziraphale over Lucifer’s back, and he was genuinely surprised none of them had started literally smoldering. The lust in Aziraphale’s eyes was as hot as the need burning inside Crowley, and judging by the way Lucifer’s splayed fingers were leaving sweaty streaks on the polished black surface, he was in a similar state.

“Any time, Crowley,” Aziraphale singsonged. “He’s waiting.”

_And so am I,_ he didn’t have to say out loud.

Crowley gulped. He needed… fuck. He looked around. They were in a living room. What appeared to be Lucifer’s bedroom was… Fuck it, too far. Home Office’s indignation about frivolous miracles be damned, Crowley wasn’t about to go looking for lube. With a snap of his fingers, a bottle appeared on the piano cover beside Lucifer’s arm.

Lucifer glanced at it, then looked over his shoulder. “Would you mind at least putting that on a coaster? This thing is expensive.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, and a coaster materialized beneath the bottle. When Crowley picked up the bottle, he had to smother a laugh. Lucifer seemed puzzled for a second, but then he looked at the words written on the coaster:

_Get on with it already._

Crowley smothered a laugh as he poured some of the slick, cool liquid on his hand. He put some on Lucifer as well, and when he shut the bottle with a click, Lucifer arched under him, anticipation radiating off him in nearly visible waves.

Biting his lip, Crowley guided himself in. He glanced at Aziraphale, who looked wicked and smug and so, so deliciously sexy as he watched the two of them. The angel dipped his chin in the subtlest of nods—an unspoken, _Go on._

Crowley definitely went on. He pressed in carefully, hissing through his teeth as the head of his cock slid into Lucifer.

Lucifer groaned, back and shoulder muscles rippling as he squirmed. “You don’t need to be careful with me,” he purred, rocking his hips to encourage Crowley. “I assure you, I’ve had it harder than you can give it.”

Crowley wasn’t stupid—well, except maybe sometimes—and he’d learned millennia ago when the one-time Angel of Light was trying to goad him. And, being a lowly demon currently working himself into the Devil’s ass, he was also well aware when he had power that wasn’t usually his.

Maybe Lucifer didn’t need slow, easy strokes to get used to Crowley’s cock, but Crowley had all the time in the world to tease the bastard with the same.

He pressed in just a little and whispered in Lucifer’s ear, “What’s your hurry?”

The growl that emerged from Lucifer’s throat made Crowley’s spine tingle.

So did the grin spreading across Aziraphale’s lips.

Oh, Crowley knew that look well. The sly grin and the little sparkle in his eye that said, _Yes, darling, That’s perfect_.

The angel’s approval and the Devil’s frustration—what more could a horny demon ask for?

He steadied Lucifer’s hips and took his sweet, sweet time working his cock into him. Lucifer groaned and even whimpered with frustration, trying to use his hips to coax Crowley deeper, but bent over the piano, he didn’t have a lot of room to move or gain leverage. He was completely at Crowley’s mercy, and Crowley was at Aziraphale’s beck and call, and the combination of power over Lucifer and submission to Aziraphale was heady as fuck.

Once Crowley had found a smooth, steady rhythm, he leaned over Lucifer and slid a hand around the front of his throat. A low growl reverberated against his hand, and Crowley moaned as he rode Lucifer harder.

On his piano bench perch, Aziraphale bit his lip, and he was breathing faster now, which only made Crowley drive harder into Lucifer.

Crowley couldn’t stand it anymore. He just couldn’t. Between fucking Lucifer and turning Aziraphale on, he was already on the verge of losing control. How could he not be?

“Azira…” Crowley panted. “Aziraphale, can… Can I…”

The angel smiled sweetly at him. “Can you what, darling?”

Crowley tried to remember how to speak while he was fucking Lucifer this hard.

Before he could, though, Lucifer twisted around, and Crowley couldn’t resist moving in for those full lips, and they came together in a crushing, demanding kiss.

“Oh, my, yes.” Aziraphale’s breathy whisper almost did Crowley in. “What a lovely pair you two are.”

Crowley broke the kiss with a gasp and panted, “Let me come, Angel. Please… Please let…” He squeezed his eyes shut, still thrusting into Lucifer even as every stroke brought him closer to that inevitable release. “Please, tell me I can—”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said. “Come in him, Crowley.”

With a cry that must have shaken the walls, Crowley slammed into Lucifer hard enough to move the piano, and then Lucifer clenched around him and cried out too, and they both came, trembling and jerking until they simultaneously slumped over the sweat-slicked piano. 

“Well.” Aziraphale sipped his drink again. “If I’d known how hot it would be to watch you together, we’d have come to this club ages ago.”

“Y-yeah?” Crowley stammered.

“Mmhmm.” Aziraphale’s expression hardened in that way that always weakened Crowley’s knees. Gesturing down at his lap, he said, “Now I do believe there’s still something the two of you need to address.”

And with a snap of his fingers, his clothing was gone.

# Chapter 3

Crowley wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that he convinced his wobbly legs to get him from behind Lucifer to kneeling at Aziraphale’s feet, or how quickly Lucifer was kneeling beside him.

It didn’t matter, though. Aziraphale had summoned him, and whatever the angel wanted, Crowley did. As Aziraphale stroked himself, Crowley bit his lip to keep from moaning. He’d been a little startled in the beginning to learn that the angel was a Dom, but he hadn’t been at all surprised that Aziraphale—that man who savored hours-long decadent meals—had a penchant for lengthy blowjobs. There was no just sucking him off and being done with it. No, when Aziraphale demanded Crowley get on his knees and blow him, that meant Crowley’s legs would be numb and his jaw would be aching by the time Aziraphale graced him with a climax, and Crowley loved every second of it.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice low and hot, “you’re going to watch first.”

Crowley gulped. “Watch?”

“Mmhmm.” Aziraphale winked, still stroking himself. “Watch.” Then he looked at Lucifer and nodded downward.

And just like that, Lucifer’s head was bobbing over Aziraphale’s lap.

Crowley stared, his lips apart and his eyes wide. Back in the day, he’d loved watching Lucifer sucking his cock, and there was something sinfully erotic about watching him suck Aziraphale’s. Maybe because he knew how talented that mouth was. Maybe because he couldn’t get enough of the lust-filled gleam in Aziraphale’s eyes. It didn’t really matter way—they were hot together, and the image of Aziraphale sitting on the piano bench, his cock down a kneeling Lucifer’s throat while they stared at each other with wide, smoldering eyes, was an image Crowley would remember for millennia to come.

Abruptly, Aziraphale grabbed Lucifer’s hair and pulled his head back. Then, with only a look, he commanded Crowley to take over.

Crowley couldn’t remember ever lunging so eagerly for anyone’s cock, not even Aziraphale’s. He was eager for it now, though, and he went down on Aziraphale like his life depended on it. Stroking. Sucking. Licking. He _lived_ for every hitch of the angel’s breath, and every growl of “oh, _yes_” made him higher than Aziraphale had been earlier.

Then a muffled moan reverberated across the goose bumps along Crowley’s spine, and when he glanced up, his heart went wild. No wonder Aziraphale had been so turned on watching Crowley and Lucifer making out—the sight of Aziraphale and Lucifer kissing like that would have put Crowley on his knees if he hadn’t already been there. He groaned around Aziraphale’s cock, which made the angel shiver and tilt his head back, and Lucifer took advantage and started kissing Aziraphale’s neck. As he did, he cut his eyes toward Crowley, and for a second or two, they locked gazes—Crowley sucking Aziraphale’s dick, Lucifer kissing Aziraphale’s neck, and if this wasn’t the most sinful thing Crowley had ever experienced… Well, who the fuck cared? It was hot and it was making Aziraphale moan and gasp. What more could he want?

He broke eye contact and deep-throated Aziraphale. Then again. And again. When Aziraphale whispered, “Oh, fuck…” Crowley nearly lost his mind. It took just short of a miracle to make Aziraphale curse, and Crowley lived for those moments when he pushed him that far.

Then Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hair and yanked his head back, making him gasp, and—

And Crowley had a split second to realize it hadn’t been Aziraphale’s hand at all before Lucifer dragged him into a needy, hungry kiss. Crowley still had the presence of mind to keep stroking Aziraphale’s cock, but barely. That deep, hard kiss distracted him from damn near everything.

“Gentlemen.” Aziraphale was breathless. “I’d suggest you finish what you’ve started.”

Neither hesitated.

They broke the kiss, and just like that, they were both licking—hell, _worshipping_—Aziraphale’s thick cock. They almost effortlessly worked in tandem, too. While Crowley focused on the head, Lucifer zeroed in on Aziraphale’s balls. Then Crowley slid his lips and tongue along the shaft, and Lucifer took over at the head. Then they found the rhythm that had Aziraphale cursing like a demon—one on each side, licking up and down from base to head. Aziraphale’s fingers kneaded Crowley’s scalp, and a glance told him Aziraphale had a similar grasp on Lucifer’s hair.

“Yes, just like that,” Aziraphale said through his teeth. “Yes… Both of…” Crowley pushed himself up and closed his lips around the head of Aziraphale’s cock, and Aziraphale cried out “_Fuck_!” just as he came on Crowley’s eager tongue. Lucifer kept stroking and Crowley kept licking, and Aziraphale shook so hard it was a wonder he didn’t tumble off the piano bench.

Breathing hard, Crowley sat back on his heels, but before he could even begin to catch his breath, Lucifer grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him in, and kissed him like he wanted to taste every drop of Aziraphale’s cum. Fine. He didn’t need to breathe. Not when his angel was satisfied and Lucifer was kissing him like this.

When Lucifer finally backed off, they stared into each other’s eyes, then turned to the sweaty, shaking, and deliciously debauched angel beside them.

“This was…” Aziraphale said between gulps of air. “Not how I saw our day concluding.”

Crowley laughed a drunkenly. “No. No, this was definitely not what I had in mind when I bought you an all-day pass for the rides.”

Lucifer chuckled. “You do get your money’s worth with those passes, hmm?” He wiped sweat off his forehead. He was still breathing hard and trembling as he said, “So, I think perhaps the bedroom would be more comfortable than this floor, yes?”

“Agreed.” Aziraphale staggered to his feet. “Let’s go.”

# Chapter 4

It didn’t seem possible to fit heaven and hell in a bed on earth, but there they were—an angel, a demon, and the Devil himself, sprawled naked on the satin sheets of Lucifer’s bed. They couldn’t have done this in London. Not in the flat they shared, anyhow. Maybe if they rented a room at the Ritz for a night. Bet the Ritz had beds big enough for some sexually satisfied celestial beings.

Crowley’s limbs were rubbery and his head was light. Was this what Aziraphale had felt like earlier after he’d eaten a bag of edibles like they were just normal gummies? Maybe. It felt good, though. Really good.

Lounging lazily on his side, Aziraphale trailed his fingers up the middle of Crowley’s bare chest, and gazed over him at Lucifer, who was similarly reclined.

“Crowley never told me you two had…history.”

“What?” Lucifer sounded playfully insulted, and elbowed Crowley. “Not once?”

Crowley sighed heavily. “Yes, love. The best way to win over the angel who spent six millennia playing hard to get was to tell him in graphic detail about all the celestial sex I had with the angel who is now the Devil.” He rolled his eyes.

Aziraphale giggled. “Well, it certainly would have gotten my attention.”

“Yes, yes, of course. And then when we were on that airbase trying to stop the end of the world, you’d have gotten distracted, blurted out, ‘That’s the bloke you blew before the fall, isn’t it?’” He flailed a hand at Lucifer. “And then he’d have remembered, gotten excited, and killed us all with the resulting erection.”

Lucifer snickered. “It would have distracted me from continuing with Armageddon.”

“See?” Aziraphale smacked Crowley’s arm. “That would have been a perfect plan.”

Crowley shot them each incredulous looks.

Then Aziraphale and Lucifer both burst out laughing, and Crowley covered his face with his hands and swore.

“Imagine that,” Lucifer mused. “An angel and a demon who are perfect for each other. God Herself couldn’t have—” His brow furrowed. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past Her to have planned that from the beginning.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale beamed. “You could say that plan was—”

“Angel,” Crowley warned. “Don’t say it.”

“What?” Lucifer asked with nearly convincing innocence. “Ineffable?”

Crowley groaned again, and Aziraphale chuckled as he kissed his temple. 

Lucifer smiled, the expression a little sweet and a little devious. “You’re clearly happy with your angel, Crowley. Trust you to find love across battle lines.”

Crowley ran a hand up Aziraphale’s thigh. “Since when have I ever followed the rules?”

“So true, love. So true.” Lucifer chuckled. “Only you would defy both heaven _and_ hell, and do it with an angel.”

“Defiance with style.” Crowley grinned. “What can I say?”

Stroking Crowley’s hair, Aziraphale looked at Lucifer. “And, um, about that whole thwarting Armageddon thing—I do hope there’s no hard feelings.”

Lucifer chuckled, leaning back with a hand behind his head. “Well, now that I’ve gone on vacation and spent some time up here on earth…” He half-shrugged. “I suppose I can forgive and forget.” With his other hand, he teased Crowley’s nipple, prompting a shiver and a sharp hiss. “Especially if the two of you come visit Los Angeles once in a while.” He didn’t have to spell out what he meant for their itinerary. The gleam in his eyes and the grin on his lips said it all.

“Oh, another trip to Los Angeles!” Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Crowley, we could do Disneyland again!”

Crowley and Lucifer both eyed him, then glanced at each other, and they shook their heads and chuckled.

“I’m sure there will be time for both,” Lucifer said. “Assuming either of you have the energy for it.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will.” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, his expression full of that childlike glee that always melted Crowley’s demonic heart. “And do you think we can pick up some more of those gummies next time?”

“Uh… well…” Crowley stammered. “We, um…”

“Gummies?” Lucifer quirked a brow.

“Oh yes.” Aziraphale beamed. “Crowley bought some yesterday, and they were spectacular.”

“They were also loaded with THC, angel,” Crowley said. “Perhaps this time, you can just try one or two?”

“Well what fun would that be?” Lucifer’s playful tone made Crowley want to facepalm. “Why stop at one or two when—”

“Lucifer,” Crowley warned.

“—the more, the merrier?”

“No, no, no.” Crowley shook his head. “Lucifer. No. I’m begging you. No.”

“But why not?” Aziraphale chirped. “Oh, lighten up, Crowley.”

“Yes, Crowley.” Lucifer smirked. “Lighten up.”

With that, Lucifer snapped his fingers.

And a bag of gummi bears appeared on the sheet between Crowley and Aziraphale.

Crowley did facepalm this time.

Cellophane crinkled.

Lucifer laughed.

And lying there naked in the Devil’s bed, it wasn’t long before Crowley’s beloved angel was once again high as fuck.

The End


End file.
